Sing for the Moment
by Independence-Day
Summary: Various songs to describe Bullworth and the characters within. Various pairings, possible OCs, uncertain plots, but one thing is certain: lots and lots of music. Upped the rating for potential foul language.
1. Viva La Vida

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize in this one-shot. All song titles, plot points, and characters belong to their respective creators and owners, I am merely borrowing them.

**Author's Notes:** I was inspired to write this by the song _Viva La Vida_ by Coldplay, and if you haven't heard it by now you must live under a rock. It's one of the best songs I've ever heard and, unlike Gary; I don't get tired of listening to it. I highly recommend listening to it while you read this, as to better understand why it so perfectly describes him. There will be more chapters to come as I write them, but my priority is on There and Back Again, and none of the chapters in this are in any particular order. They're just fun little one-shots based off songs.

The next one up: Riot, by Three Days Grace.

**Chapter Summary:** GaryXChristy; Gary understands and despises the only words that so flawlessly describe him.

**Viva La Vida**

_I used to rule the world; seas would rise when I gave the word. Now in the morning I sleep alone; sweep the streets I used to own._

He hated that bloody song.

It wasn't because it sounded bad. No, as loathe as he was to admit it, the song was actually rather good. Amazing actually, but good was as far as he allowed himself. It had a catchy beat, an uplifting feeling (that lied for the lyrics) and the singer's voice had a British lilt to it Gary found he liked. So, given all this, why did he hate the song?

There were a few reasons, the first and least important one being it was overplayed. Every time he turned around, it was playing or being hummed. Whether Miss Phillip's radio pulsed with the tune, or Petey hummed the lyrics as he did his homework, Gary would be there to hear it. He had to suffer through art. Miss Phillip's radio was sacred ground and he would not, under any circumstances, even if dying from some dreadful disease and the cure was sitting on top of the radio, get near it. He would sooner die. Miss Phillips was scary. End of story.

Petey he could forcibly silence (at the impending wrath of Jimmy) or walk away from. It was the rest of the world he couldn't avoid.

The radio in his newest shrink's office, car radios driving past him, very nearly every student in Bullworth or patient at Happy Volts, random citizens of Bullworth, everywhere he went, that damn song would be playing in one form or another. So much so, he was certain that if he heard it one more time he would spontaneously combust.

He couldn't even escape it with Christy, being that it was her new favorite song. That in of itself wasn't the problem. Gary didn't much care what her favorite song was as long as it didn't interfere in their dates and make-out sessions. The problem was when Christy got a new favorite song; she listened to _only_ that song. She hummed only _that_ song, sang the lyrics _to just that_ song, etched them on her notebooks, wrote her favorite lines on her arm in pen, and generally obsessed over just that one song.

Of course he had to date the crazy.

He wasn't entirely sure why she had agreed to go back out with him. They had dated before the riot last year (around the same time that blasted song was releaser, coincidentally enough) and he had dumped her the day of said riot in a heartless, cold way only Gary could provide:

"We're through, you pawn."

He'd only recently admitted to himself (and several shrinks) that he had genuinely liked her. Yeah, she was shallow, selfish, and an annoying gossip but it was that last trait that had initially attracted him to her. He could use her to ruin Jimmy, and anyone else who screwed with him. It was beyond genius.

But then, she had started flirting. It had been little things at first. Little smiles in the hallway, asking him for more gossip after lunch and giggling when he happily delivered her a dish of rumors and slander that would make a politician cross his eyes, glancing at him in class. It hadn't taken him long to figure it out. He was a genius after all, but what he couldn't figure out was the best way to actually seal the deal.

She had taken care of that with the starting of a simple rumor about Gary having a thing for Femme-Boy that had sent him through the roof. He'd chased her down, they'd argued (all the while her dodging around the fact she was jealous she didn't get to spend all that time with him, and him dodging around the fact he wouldn't admit he liked her) and he'd kissed her.

At the time, it had been to shut her up and prove her wrong, but the outcome had been a happy one: them dating and a make-out session that lasted until dinner behind the bleachers where one of the jocks had sat with his stereo blasting that song. Gary had happily ignored it, what with his hand under Christy's skirt and her nibbling at his ear, but one riot, and a fifteen foot drop through a skylight later and he realized it had been a sign. It only took him a stay at Happy Volts and a touch of shock therapy to figure out what, exactly, it was a sign of…

The song's meaning wasn't all that difficult to discern. It was practically a story about what had happened last year. He had been king, on top, in charge, with the whole world of Bullworth wrapped around his little finger and with the shattered glass of burnt out gym windows and the drumming of sneakers on concrete the whole world of Bullworth found out what he really was: Emperor Nero throwing them to the lions.

Bullies, Greasers, Jocks, Preppies, and even Nerds were making a habit of jumping him whenever they got the chance. Christy had been kicked off the cheerleading squad and ostracized by her friends while Gary had to lock his door and window at night to avoid being suffocated by a pillow. It was getting to be almost boring to wake up with his window smeared with egg yolks and the door painted with graffiti.

Part of him, in fact most of him wished he ruled again, but with a sound swat to the back of his head from Christy and a glance at his pill box he knew it wasn't worth it.

He just wished that song would stop playing on the radio so he could forget everything that had happened, and everything he had had. Petey, the only kid in school still talking to him with a semblance of civility, often said the song was meant to remind him, that he was supposed to remember so it wouldn't happen again.

Gary knew it was more than that. He knew it was played purposely, with the song put on repeat and the kids singing it at him in the hallways. They all knew, and all the kids in Bullworth were simply reminding Gary what he had known since he had first fallen towards the skylight: Saint Peter wasn't going to call his name.

_For some reason I can't explain, I know Saint Peter won't call my name, never an honest word, but that was when I ruled the world._


	2. Riot

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize in this one-shot. All song titles, plot points, and characters belong to their respective creators and owners, I am merely borrowing them.

**Author's Notes:** Two in one day? I'm spoiling you guys… This one is _Riot_, by Three Days Grace, and again, I recommend you listen to the song as you read. It really helps 'cuz that's what I listened to as I wrote. The context of this one is a little different, as the song isn't actually mentioned in the fic, but it's still vital to it. In _Viva La Vida_ it was like the blood of the piece, you needed it, but in this one the song is more like the muscles, it just kind of holds everything together.

The next one up: Some song or another by Alanis Morissette. Maybe. I haven't planned that far ahead.

**Chapter Summary:** No pairing. Johnny gets a taste of the only therapy he ever needed, and it tastes like blood and violence.

**Riot**

_If you feel so empty, so used up, so let down; If you feel so angry, so ripped off so stepped on; You're not the only one refusing to back down. You're not the only one. So get up…_

He had, honest to God, never felt so alive.

Lola had never made him buzz like this, with so much energy he knew a little more might just cause an explosion, and Lola never could, no matter how hard she tried or how distasteful she got. She couldn't be the crunch of a Prep's nose under his fist, or blood dripping in his eye. She couldn't be a gang war in the middle of a darkened alley, a brick in his hand, or Aquaberry clutched in his fist. She couldn't be pounding feet, or the blur of tears in his eyes as a stink bomb crashed against the wall next to his head.

She couldn't be _this_.

Whatever Gary had done, and however he had had done it, he had done it damn well. The entire school was in utter and absolute chaos. Fighting, firecrackers exploding, blood dripping from faces, children huddling behind buildings, bodies thrown helter skelter… Clique status didn't matter anymore, all that mattered was the fighting, and Johnny loved it more than he probably should have. This chaos, this riot, was the first time he knew he ruled, and could rule. It wasn't a clique fight between his boys and the Preps, it wasn't the same, because no matter how many times they brought Harrington or his boys down, broke their noses, cost them Aquaberry, the Preps were still on top. All they had to do was throw a few hundred dollar bills in their enemies' faces to prove it. Here? Money meant absolutely nothing.

Money couldn't buy you a way out of a trashcan, or protect you from the stinging blow of leather clad fists. Money couldn't protect you from a brick to the back of the head, or a baseball bat to the knees. Money, in a riot, was no better than a knife in a gunfight. It might make a guy pause, but in the end guess who won? Gun, every damn time. Unless you were Vin Diesel or something, but that wasn't the point, the point was, for all their fancy boxing moves and training, the Preps were fish out of water in a riot, while the Greasers were soaking up the glory.

Johnny and his boys knew street fighting. The Preps weren't they're only problems with Townies lurking in New Coventry, and Townies didn't fight like Preps. Hell, they didn't fight like Greasers. They fought like they were fighting for their lives. Anything that could be used as a weapon was grabbed and used, any move that could give you the upper hand, no matter how dirty was used and quickly. Fights, to the Townies, wasn't about proving anything, it was about keeping your skin as free of bruises as possible. They were made for riot situations, born and bred like pit bulls.

Preps were made to fight with rules. No under the belt hits, no sneak attacks from behind, no weapons that could actually do permanent damage, and if things went too far they would back off and wait. They weren't made for the beauty and chaos that was a riot. They didn't train for running around a corner and getting clothes lined by a trashcan lid, or being hit in the ribs with a brick. They didn't know how to fight without rules, to them, fighting was about proving something. Riots didn't have to prove anything. They just were and Johnny effing loved it.

He wasn't the underdog anymore. He was on top. No one was walking all over him, no one was stepping on him, or using him, or messing with his head. He was the king, however temporary the station might be, and loved it. Every punch he threw every hit he took, every strike or blow was a strike against Harrington, a blow against Lola and heartbreak. It was the Preps falling to the ground in a bleeding pile, Lola being faithful, Gary being thrown down, Gord being pulverized, every hit or kick or win was everything he had ever wanted and when Jimmy finally stopped him in the girl's dorm, thrown him down, all he could do was smile as he stared up at a graffiti colored ceiling.

A riot was all he really needed, and next time him and Harrington went at it in the parking lot of the motel, he'd drag a few boys along and start a riot.

_Let's start a riot_


	3. Jupiter

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize in this one-shot. All song titles, plot points, and characters belong to their respective creators and owners, I am merely borrowing them.

**Author's Notes:** Sorry I sort of lied. This one isn't anything by Alanis Morissette, like I said it would be. I just couldn't get the right feel for the music like I could with the other two, so I waited until this came along. The song is Jupiter, by Jewel, and again, I recommend you listen to the song as you read. It sets the tone and some of the message of the song.

I'm not sure how I feel about this one, so read it, take it for what it is, and ignore the somewhat clichéd ending. It fit when I wrote it, even though my brain screamed at me: 'You are not Stephanie Meyer; clichés are not your thing! No cookie!"

**The next one up:** It depends on who I listen to most over the next week so, yeah...

If you have any songs or characters, or a particular combination you'd like to see, leave them in a review and I'll see what I can do. I'm not promising I'll write the one-shot, but I can check it out at least!

**Chapter Summary:** JohnnyXLola; mild GordXLola

**Jupiter**

_Venus De Milo, in her half baked shell, understood the nature of love very well…_

Lola Lombardi, in her skintight jeans, understood the nature of love very well.

She understood it was thirty percent lust, sixty percent infatuation, ten percent honeyed words and one hundred percent bullshit, but as long as no one else understood that, she could still have whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it.

So far Hopkins was the only one who understood, and he wasn't the sort to run around spreading truth or rumor for self satisfaction. He had enough issues as it was, what with his Mom apparently having slept with Crabblesnitch to get him in. At least, according to Gary she did.

But Lola wasn't fond of Gary. He didn't understand the nature of love like Johnny did. He understood honeyed words, and just the right looks sending people reeling. He understood how to make a laugh sound simultaneously condescending and jovial, all the while retaining a certain grace and elegance Lola sort of envied. He understood how to make people fall in love with him, his words, with the way he said something and the amount of power he could offer them. He understood how to make people want, but he didn't understand how to make them _want_… not like she did.

She understood how a little lust could drive someone insane; she understood a good love was delicious, like a good wine. You couldn't get enough too soon, and if someone understood the power of a few words, a gentle press of the hand to a well muscled bicep the right perfume, a bit of make-up and bam! Everyone loved you instantly.

It wasn't really love though, not like it was supposed to be. It wasn't waking up in the morning and smelling your favorite kind of coffee and bagel from downstairs and listening to the heavy sound of your boyfriend's voice protecting it from the greedy hands of his friends, it wasn't watching a heavy fist pummeling the face of a Prep in defense of what little honor you had left, it wasn't renting your favorite mushy romance for the fiftieth time and your boyfriend not complaining once.

The again, that might not really be love either. Johnny was only eighteen, he was a bit young for that sort of commitment, and she wasn't ready to settle. She was young and beautiful and could have any guy she wanted in Bullworth.

It might be a bit of a problem, that no matter how much she flirted and flaunted the only real cheating she had done was with Gord, and that was to get back at Vincent for that crack about her dismal midterm grade. She hadn't meant any harm with the others…

And she hadn't really loved them, even though they loved her. Or at least lusted after her so much that their hormones convinced them they loved her. Same as Johnny, but he actually treated her like he did. He actually treated her like a queen, brought her breakfast in bed when she had had that nasty cold last week, and her parents loved him. Probably because he could fix their car for free and make it purr like a kitten, but they loved him, and he'd take a bullet for them.

But she didn't _love_ him. She _lusted_ after Johnny certainly; he had damn gorgeous eyes, a sexy, crooked grin that managed to look arrogant and sweet at the same time, and a great body under all that leather, tan, sculpted, littered with scars and bruises, but rock hard from all those fights with Harrington. Not to mention he was great it bed… Lust and love weren't the same things; lust was thirty percent of love of course, but lust was all hormones. Love was heart and soul, willing to do anything for your lover, even if it meant letting them go. As long as they were happy, you were happy. Love was selfless and complete…

Kinda how Johnny was with her. Completely selfless and he was so willing to do anything for her, just like she would for him.

But she didn't love him.

Lola didn't love the way his hair curled when he got out of the shower, or the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed really hard. She didn't love the chip in his front tooth from his first big fight with Harrington, or his morbid attempts at making breakfast for her family when McDonald's was a whole helluva lot less likely to poison or hospitalize them. She didn't love how he always smelled a bit like gasoline and leather and she absolutely did not love the way he called her 'sugar' with that deep throaty voice when he wanted a favor of the unisexual sort.

She liked those things about him, certainly, what wasn't to like, but she absolutely did _not_ love and adore them with every fiber of her slightly slutty being…

Wait.

Well, _shit_.

_Take these stars from my crown, let the years fall down, lay me out in firelight, let my skin feel the night. Fasten me to your side, and say it will be soon. You make me so crazy, baby. Could swallow the moon…Swallow the moon…Swallow the moon…Swallow the moon…_


	4. Free Fallin'

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize in this one-shot. All song titles, plot points, and characters belong to their respective creators and owners, I am merely borrowing them. (From this chapter forward I'm putting the artist along with the song title as the title so I can more easily remember who I've done and who I haven't.)

**Author's Notes**: This one is a request from my wonderful friend and fellow lover of all things childish Silentvendetta. She's a huge John Mayer fan (I think he's single, go for it, your boyfriend won't mind!) and suggested this when I asked her for some inspiration. I hope she likes it and I hope you guys do too.

As bumpy as the ending feels to me, and as much as I'd like to go back and do a bit more editing, I think this one needs to feel a bit rough. There's still so much I could add and so many ways I could take it… but… There's just something about it that needs to feel rough and untouched. It might just be me being sentimental about my work, but in light of this particular feeling please excuse any annoying typos. Particularly of the tenses; it's supposed to be predominately past tense, but they do change towards the end and it got tricky for me. Forgive me, for I am tired and very busy.

Happy Thanksgiving.

**The next one up:** I'm thinking _People Just Ain't no Good_ by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds for Jimmy or Petey. I have to listen to the song a bit first. There's no guarantee, but it's time for some Petey love.

If you have any songs or characters, or a particular combination you'd like to see written, leave them in a review and I'll see what I can do. I'm not promising I'll write the one-shot, but I can check it out at least. Seriously guys, I need some inspiration, so send it my way and keep the lovely reviews coming!

**Chapter Summary:** JohnnyXOC; Johnny breaks someone's heart and wonders.

**Free Fallin' – John Mayer**

_She's a good girl, loves her mama, loves Jesus and America too, she's a good girl, crazy 'bout Elvis, loves horses and her boyfriend too…_

He should have known better.

A summer romance? For him? That didn't include Lola? Stupid. Just stupid. Smith had been right; he was all muscle, no brains.

But at the time he hadn't needed brains. All he had needed was a pretty girl with a cute smile, the proof he deserved more than Lola and more than trash. She had come almost as if he had snapped his gloved fingers. Poof, there, here, but not anymore, and it was his fault.

They had met right after the school year ended, when he was still bruised from the riot, adrenaline was still thrumming through his veins, he was still wiping blood from his gloves and jacket and licking his wounds. Hopkins was considered a good friend, Smith an open target and he wasn't afraid to walk down the street alone at night anymore.

He started going back to his favorite haunts, leaning in dark alleyways, smoking cigarettes in the park, wandering at night. Unlike most of the Greasers, when he wandered at night, he actually _wandered_. The town was _his_, contrary to what Smith or Harrington or Edgar thought, and he was one of the few kids brave enough to wander all the alleys at night. Getting jumped by another student wasn't really all that bad, you fought, you won or lost, cut your losses and went on about your business. Getting jumped by a starving, drunken hobo with nothing to lose and an eye for your jacket? That was dangerous, and only Johnny would risk it.

Why? Who knew, he didn't, but he loved the taste of adrenaline and his summer habit quickly made him nocturnal. His friends thought him a vampire, and Vance almost believed it until Johnny was forced to run an errand for his Mom and Vance threw his jacket over him to protect him from the sunlight. So what if he lost weight or got a little pale? He was happy, and he didn't have to watch Lola flirt her way through town in an attempt to bring him back. He wasn't going back, no matter how much his heart (dick?) wanted to. He. Was. _Not_.

It was slowly killing him everyday he though about Lola and knew she wasn't thinking about him. 'Till he met her.

The ground did not tilt when Johnny met Rosalind Matthews, the innocent little public school girl with hair the color of a copper penny, and a smile that melted ice. He did not fall inexplicably in love with her, and he did not feel his heart jump into his throat upon seeing her warm brown eyes glimmering his way. He did, however, feel that Townie slam into his back in what must have been a spectacular tackle that would have done any Rugby team proud. Johnny did feel the gravel scrape the side of his already tender face, and he did feel a bruised set of ribs groan in displeasure of being jostled so very roughly.

The Townie was later revealed to be Rosalind's ex; a gorilla with a peanut sized brain who later left with a swollen red cheek from Rosalind's tiny, sun-tanned hand. Turned out, much to the displeasure of Johnny's abused ribs, she wasn't the gorilla's girl, had only been so for a week, and he was doing any and all in his power to sabotage any future relationships. She was single, sort of lonely, and hey, do you wanna get a coke, maybe catch a movie?

And that had been Rosalind. They got cokes, (she preferred Sprite) saw a bad comedy, (Rosalind loved old black and white pictures, the kinds with the pretty, smoky actresses with glowing complexions and soft features), and made a date for Saturday, every Saturday, for the rest of the summer vacation.

He didn't fall in love, but lust wasn't far away. Rosalind was the type of girl you liked easily; fun-loving, open-hearted, easy-going, and had a laugh that had the whole room smiling. She loved Elvis, burned Johnny all the CD's he was missing and wanted more than anything to learn how to horseback ride. Her parents were sweet, wary of him, and were the types that genuinely prayed every night at dinner and attended church for the sermons, not the gossip. Rare, wonderful people that had welcomed him in their home with open arms because he showed their sweet, tender-hearted daughter that leather jackets weren't all bad.

And he broke their hearts. Rosalind's the worst, because she had actually come to love him.

The day she told him his heart hadn't sunk to his toes. He didn't immediately freak out, nor did he sweep her in his arms and kiss her in a clichéd moment of end-of-movie-faked-romance. She just smiled that sweet, innocent little smile, and took his hand. You don't have to say anything Johnny, she had said, I just wanted you to know.

He broke up with her, maybe a week later, gently, but there was really no gentle way to do it. Not with the devotion and love she had showed him. There was simply no way. Worst part was she didn't cry. Rosalind, as tender-hearted as she was, wasn't the type to cry in public. Crying he could have handled, may have even faked a few tears with her, but the stare? That had chilled him right down to his very bones. She just stared at him, eyes gone hollow, face blank. He had taken her home, walked her to the door, kissed her cheek (asshole, he later cursed himself, what the hell was that?) and waited until she was safely locked inside against the dark of night. Her sobs were in his nightmares to this very day, the sound of absolute anguish enough to have kept him locked in his room for days afterward, blasting music, trying for the love of God to make them stop echoing in his brain.

He was such an asshole, leading her on like that. What had he been thinking? He hadn't actually loved her, he had only liked her, thought her cute, and there had been no actual genuine chemistry there. Sure there had been sparks. Yeah he would have done anything for her, but that was the boyfriend's job. What the hell had he been thinking? He hadn't been. That was the thing; he had just been looking for comfort from Lola, and had found the sweetest girl in the world. He should have known better, she should have known better. There was so much that could have been prevented.

One good thing came out of it though: Lola disgusted him so thoroughly he almost vomited when he saw her. Lola, who made a talent out of breaking hearts, Lola who had shattered his, Lola who had driven him to sweet, wonderful but sometimes stubborn-as-a-mule Rosalind…Lola who still tried to needle her way back to him, who still broke hearts every day like it was nothing. She was less than dirt to him now; he had gotten what he wanted. But God, Rosalind…poor Rosalind.

Sometimes he visited her house, he'd watch her silhouette in the window, count the strokes as she brushed out her coppery hair (always ninety-two), would tap his foot to the music she blasted, always Elvis, but never their song. Through her window he could see the horse poster he had given her was left lonely and stark against one wall, tacked too straight, too clean against the chaos that was her cluttered room. She had a lone sticky note stuck on it, darkened with the scribbles of words, but he couldn't see what they said. He visited her at least once a God forsaken week…but he didn't even miss her, and that was the part that made him cry at night.

_Yeah I'm free, free fallin'_


	5. All the Right Moves

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize in this one-shot. All song titles, plot points, and characters belong to their respective creators and owners, I am merely borrowing them.

**Author's Notes:** The beginning is rough, Jimmy is kind of out of character, and I'm not sure about the ending, per usual, but I think I like it. Not one of my best pieces though, so forgive me until something better comes along.

On another note, finals are over, my brain is mush, but I don't have to be back at school until January 9th. That's about a month of a break. A month. Almost. It's beautiful.

**The next one up:** I lie, so don't take my word for it, but this time I might actually go for _People Just Ain't No Good_ by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. No guarantees.

**Chapter Summary:** JimmyXZoë; Jimmy realizes he didn't really beat Harrington

**All the Right Moves - OneRepublic**

_All the right friends in all the right places, so yeah we're going down. They got all the right moves and all the right faces, so yeah we're goin' down…_

The dance had been Ms. Phillips idea, and with the backing of Crabblesnitch, a few flyers, Christy's gossiping ways, and some funding from the Preps, it had been set up. A Halloween dance, or Masquerade Ball, whichever you preferred, had been planned and the kids were designated to one area, fenced in by the prefects: the entry hall of the school.

Perfect place because the gym had too many hiding places, and the cafeteria could serve as a serving and rest area while the entry hall itself was used for dancing. But the dance, (which Zoë had copped out of to avoid wearing a dress, so they had snuck in to watch Pete fumble his way around from the second floor) was making the pecking order of Bullworth almost annoyingly clear.

As Derby danced with Pinky, waltzed like in the music video to this song, Jimmy couldn't remember the name of it, and Lola pouted with Johnny in the corner and Mandy and the other cheerleaders watched enviously, it was all too obvious.

The Preps ruled, and no amount of psychopathic mania or violence would change it.

Yeah, things in Bullworth were looking up for the non-Preppy students, but the Preps had everything. They had it _made_, and it annoyed Jimmy to no fucking end. Even in high school the rich ruled while the poor and middle class stumbled to catch up, and they had everything. _Everything_. Money, all the right friends in all the right places, all the right moves, all the right faces…everything. It was perfect, for them, and their denial was thicker than Johnny's hair grease. The cherry on top.

They thought everyone wanted to be them, thought everyone wanted to shine like them, be bright like them. Jimmy was disgusted to remember _he_ had even made the attempt to be like them, true, it was all in the good name of payback, but he had done it. He had spent money on the haircut, the clothes, just to beat the crap out of them, to show them they weren't the best, and yet… in a way he had still lost. He had changed to suit them. Changed who he was, not inherently, of course, he was still rough around the edges Jimmy Hopkins, but on the outside? No. He had been them, however temporary, and even when he had been there, standing over a bleeding Harrington, they both knew he still hadn't won.

He was still on the bottom rung, still fighting his way to the top, still clawing, still wondering how the hell he had gotten caught up in all this mess…. But he had still lost. He still hadn't been able to talk the talk, or walk the walk. No matter what anyone saw, he couldn't look like them, no matter what anyone heard or said, he couldn't face someone that sounded like them, someone who could make him feel two inches tall with words.

Not even Gary had been able to do that. Sure, Gary had pissed him off, but made him feel tiny, insignificant, and useless, no matter how hard he fought? Nope. Gary just angered him. A lot. The Preps had their own way of doing things, and they ruled. No matter how many punches Jimmy threw, how much Aquaberry he ruined, he still couldn't beat them.

Jimmy turned and walked away, leaving Zoë to decide whether or not she would trail after him or stay and watch. He couldn't face the failure anymore, he hated failing, and even though Derby and he were on decent terms (friendly almost) they both knew who was still really in charge by name and reputation alone. When Jimmy turned at the window, to see if Zoë had followed, she hadn't. She was still watching the dancers, still watching Harrington as the song drew to a close and he escorted Pinky to get a drink.

She wouldn't admit it, but she had been dying to go, to dress up and do her hair and show off what years of contemporary dance lessons had taught her, to show that she could waltz too, even get her leg up higher than Mandy's.

Jimmy sighed and climbed through the window, just another screw up to add to a long list.

_Yeah we're goin' down…_


	6. Belle of the Boulevard

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize in this one-shot. All song titles, plot points, and characters belong to their respective creators and owners, I am merely borrowing them.

**Author's Notes:** Ok, I'll be honest, I started this one with the intentions of going a completely different direction, and I think you guys can definitely see that in some areas, but it ended up… how it ended. I think I like it, but I'm not a huge fan of Mandy, so finding her darker side is more difficult for me. I might write something from Gary's point of view, a dark side I am very familiar with, but no guarantees.

I hope you guys like this one and those of you Mandy lovers out there, I'd be happy to hear some tips to keep her more in character, but still go a little deeper.

**The next one up:** Ok, forget Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, it's just not happening. I'm leaning towards something by Three Days Grace. I know I've already done them, but I was thinking something off their new album.

Please, think of this bit of begging like Mike Rowe's from Dirty Jobs. If you don't send in jobs, he doesn't have a job, if you don't send in songs and character requests; I can't write more and improve. So please, send in some songs. And jobs for Mike Rowe. 'Cuz that's a good show and all…

**Chapter Summary:** unrequited MandyXJohnny; Mandy considers why she doesn't change, and finds a conclusion she doesn't like.

**Belle of the Boulevard – Dashboard Confessional**

_Down in a local bar, out on the boulevard, the sound of an old guitar is saving you from sinking, it's a long way down, it's a long way…_

Mandy considered herself, arguably, the best actress in the whole damn school. Christy was decent, Lola excellent, but she was too strained. Pinky was surprisingly real for someone so…Pinky-like, but Mandy was the best. An actress with flawless talent, who makes an art of lying to those who think they know her best. How else would she hide every little emotion with a careful control that Gary Smith might envy if he knew about it?

He probably did, but acknowledging otherwise would solidify the fact that there were cracks in her perfectly set mask and those were flaws Mandy would not admit to. She didn't have to. She was the Queen Bee, the Belle of Bullworth, she ruled, and since her first year there as a skinny legged little nine year old, that's all she had ever wanted. To be looked up to and envied and loved.

But Ted was more interested in showing off his spectacular football plays, while Mandy was left on the sidelines, adjusting make-up, being snide and self-centered and bitchy. She was the one working to keep a perfectly made image in tack, and for four years she's done it. Kept her emotions in check when necessary, telling all the right jokes, let Ted take as much as he wanted in a relationship she went into for obligation. All her insecurities, all her personal goals, all her emotions, shoved to the wayside. She had an image to protect.

The only ones that knew any different were the four walls of her dorm, her radio, and the pillow she broke down into on a semi-nightly basis. Her radio was a model that had a headphone hook up, and so therefore Mrs. Peabody had left it alone, and praise whoever would listen for that, because if it was gone Mandy would be done for. Her favorite radio stations were surprisingly edgy, with smooth guitar rifts and the thrum of drums and heavy lyrics. The best music around was made of guitar beats and drug addicts voices rasping away their skin and sometimes Mandy's. It was comforting, and those guitars saved her every night, while her silk blouses and jewelry and make-up was hidden away by the velvet of darkness and nighttime, the heady addiction to a good blues song always strengthened her resolve. She would be what the world wanted her to be, nothing would change that, nothing ever could, but she knew she couldn't take much more.

All the make-up she wore to keep her flawless appearance, all the working out she did, all the clothes she bought, all the silk and satin and rings… she hated almost all of it. There was her inner female, who loved shopping, but she couldn't stand being so damn fake…It would be a long fall from grace if she ever decided she was tired of it. Even if she didn't go out like Gary, it would be a long fall from grace, and her landing would be equivalent to jumping into a dumpster of shattered glass.

She valued her sanity and herself far too much to do that.

But really? She was just hurting herself more, and she knew it. She wouldn't admit it, and as she took a swig of whiskey for courage as Ted pressed more and more for a goal he always made, or applied the third coat of eyeliner to better outline her eyes, she wondered if it was worth it.

She never really had an actual answer for herself, but as much as she wished she could be herself, wears jeans and sneakers and pull her hair down and wipe off the make-up and listen to her favorite music, the whisper of a kiss from Ted or snide comment thrown at Beatrice still give her delicious tingles.

The last thing she wondered, shaking shivers of disgust at herself off as she climbed into bed, is what Johnny would think of her, real, solid, somewhat paranoid and definitely cuter than allowed Johnny. Judging from his sneers at her and unmasked indifference, not much, and that was always the breaking point into tears. Mandy admitted to liking him more than what she probably should, but he was real, and he was known for preferring girls who were themselves. If she could change she could have him, hopefully, but then she would lose everything else she had so carefully crafted in her perfectly imbalanced life.

It was never enough, and that thought always brought on the water works at night, smearing what make-up had clung to her skin.

_Life is always hard for the belle of the boulevard…_


	7. Bulletproof Weeks

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize in this one-shot. All song titles, plot points, and characters belong to their respective creators and owners, I am merely borrowing them. Note: in this one-shot, there is the cameo of an OC I made for another fic that never got written. I thought her antagonistic ways would suit the scene, so, no stealing of Sherry, the Mary-Sue step-sister of Gary. Just be glad you probably won't be seeing her again.

**Author's Notes:** I'm really unsure about this one. They seem so out of character to me… at least the song's pretty. Sorry about the wait.

**The next one up:** I actually have it written, so now you can expect some Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. I'll probably post it directly after posting this one.

**Chapter Summary:** GaryXPetey if you squint and turn your head; You can't fix what' been broken, not completely, but Gary at least seems willing to try.

**Bulletproof Weeks – Matt Nathanson**

_Somewhere in between the beginning and the end, September took the tourists and settled in for good…_

~June 2005~

"C'mon Petey!" Gary was a ball of energy, probably the result of about eight Sprites and outrunning the cops again for causing his usual trouble, and was running up the stairs to Pete's room. He was grinning ear to ear, dressed in well worn jeans, sneakers and the usual t-shirt, and there was no scar across his eye. The fight with his dad hadn't happened yet, the broken beer bottle scar still a week away.

The streetlights were starting to cut on, and the summer tourists were settling into their hotel rooms. There was the faint sound of trains in the distance, and when Petey reached his room Gary had thrown open the window to let in all the hot evening air and was leaning on his elbows to look out the window. A weak breeze mussed his hair, and he hadn't taken his sneakers off before flopping on Petey's bed.

"Gary, c'mon take your shoes off!"

Gary grinned mischievously "We're only going back outside later tonight, what's the point?"

"Why later?"

Gary rolled his eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world "Cuz we're playing Left 4 Dead now dummy. Geez…"

They didn't end up leaving later. They spent the rest of the night playing Left 4 Dead, Gary forcing Petey to play as Zoey and then taking Francis. Of course, Gary spent more time 'accidentally' hitting him with Molotovs, and 'unintentionally' shooting him. It struck Petey as odd though, that every time he got downed by a Hunter, Gary/Francis was the one who saved him, or every time he heard a Tank (Gary had this freakish talent of hearing them before the attack) Zoey would end up tucked behind Francis.

He didn't have time to consider it though, given the Witch trailing after his fleeing character and Francis close on her heels, firing rapidly at the screeching zombie.

~September 2006~

The window to their dorm room was open, warm air blowing throw and airing out the musty room. Suitcases were laid open on Pete's bed, clothes spilling out, forgotten. The clouds were dark, heavy with rain starting to sprinkle down on the students. Petey cold see couples scattering as the rain started, sharing umbrellas or being covered with boyfriend's jackets. Gary was glowering out the window as the lights started to turn on, solar powered now in favor of going green and saving money. The scar over his eye was white and shiny, healed over.

"God I hate this place, and Mom almost caved this year when I begged for the transfer…"

Petey was suddenly struck with panic; his best friend was threatening to leave, to go away and not come back, forget everything they'd had over the past summers and school years. Sure Gary could be an ass, but… he was all Petey had. "…"

Gary continued, feeling unusually talkative "But, lucky me, David" the scar wasn't old enough that Gary would forget, and he probably would never forgive "said it would cost less… yippee…" He sank down deeper into his bed, still glowering out the window. "I'm telling you little Petey, this place should be burned to the ground. I might even dance in the ashes."

Petey shorted at the mental image of Gary doing the Macarena in a large pile of ashes, and tried to cover it as a sneeze, but Gary caught it anyways "What's so funny?" he demanded.

"Nothing," Petey smirked, and then changed the subject quickly "My Aunt sent me a new radio for my birthday."

Gary perked up a little. Loud enough music could piss off a few people, and misery does love company "Yeah?"

"Yeah, here," Petey reached into the bag hooked on the edge of his bedpost and pulled out a small new radio, battery powered and waiting for use. Gary immediately snatched it and turned it on, twisting the knob until he found a station he liked. Petey had lost any right to his radio, but that didn't bother him. They, generally, liked the same sort of music.

An overly familiar song came on, _Viva La Vida_ or something like that. It had been played so much it was getting cheap, like a prostitute. Gary groaned "I am so tired of this song… it doesn't even mean anything…"

Petey shook his head "You're smarter than that."

Gary pursed his lips in annoyance at the insinuation he wasn't a complete genius. "Well then tell me little Petey," he said snidely "what's it mean?"

"French Revolution."

Gary furrowed his brow "World War II, see? I can do it too. American Revolution."

Petey rolled his eyes "Ha ha, the song's about the French Revolution."

"Oh really?" Gary sounded amused, and Petey almost looked around to see if a small child was in pain.

"Really." And, even though he wasn't prompted, he explained. They both knew that Gary knew the meaning of the song, that saying he didn't was just another way of saying that it was unimportant to him, but he let Petey talk. He went over every detail, and didn't stop to think about the almost minuscule smile Gary was shooting, just kept talking more and more excitedly, even delving into the 'let them eat cake' issue. Gary was convinced Maries Antoinette had said something like that, and Petey was convinced no one could be that cruel… Gary grinned when he won the debate that people were generally more bad than good, even if he conceded that she hadn't said it.

It was one of the last truly happy smiles Petey would ever see from him.

~March 2007~

Gary's house was in Old Bullworth Vale, nestled a few houses over from the truly, ridiculously wealthy-looking houses, but it was clear his family had money. Petey had managed to get past the gate and around the side, hoping Gary's window would be open. Gary was like a cat like that, if the window was open he'd be fixed next it, looking out and watching the world, licking his lips when an opportunity flew by…even if he was too comfortable to go chase it down.

Petey had been wrong though. The window was shut tight, and the blinds drawn. No sign of his best friend. Petey hadn't wanted to face the non-English speaking maid, or Gary's parents and step-sister, but if he was so determined to see Gary he'd have to. Hopefully Sherry (Petey found it pretty damn ironic that the step-siblings named rhymed, Jimmy just found it hilarious) and the others wouldn't be home, but there was no such luck.

"He's locked the door," Petey glanced down to find Sherry squinting at him from an open living room window. She was a pretty girl, with dark red hair and full lips, but calculating eyes. If Gary was a cat, she was a snake, all cool scales and unflappable grace.

"I'll come back later."

"You leave and he'll never open it." She moved to sit on the window sill and examined a burgundy colored nail. "He's back on his meds, but he's…broken. Shattered into a million pieces." Petey was disgusted to note she sounded somewhat please. She and her mother, Gary's step-mom, fit all too well into the Smith clan.

"Try not to sound too broken up about it."

She continued her voice low and sultry. Must have been the same voice that conned Eve into chomping on that apple "What's wrong, _little_ Petey? Your boyfr-"

"You don't call him that." Petey and Sherry turned to find Gary outside, coming around the back of the house, looking almost as feral as the day of the riot. "_Ever_."

She gave a light chuckle and winked subtly at Petey "Whatever you say, bro." then pulled back and shut the window, sliding out of view.

"She's… charming."

Gary moved past him, and Petey caught side of a few new scars along Gary's jaw. Gary moved stiffly, head bowed as though a heavy wind were trying to knock him over. He looked damn tired.

"Let's go to your place." He threw a glance back at Petey, "Yeah?"

A few years ago he never would have asked, just taken off running, dragging Petey behind him. It was his way of apologizing, his way of trying to fix everything he broke, at least between them. The fact that Petey had come at all just showed how much faith he had in Gary's ability to heal and move past everything, of course, whatever it was Gary had broken between them, it wouldn't be the same. It was like breaking a statue, or a mug. Sure, you can glue it back together, but there's still a crack, the chip of a missing piece. It's never completely the same, never really fixed.

Petey nodded "Sure Gary. We can play left for dead two if you want?"

Gary smiled, and Petey felt that same flail of panic he'd felt not long ago when Gary had threatened to transfer schools. It was the smile of a broken man trying to glue things back together, and he was missing a few pieces.

"Alright, but only if you're Rochelle, and I can be Nick…"

_What happened to thinking the world was flat? Yeah, what happened…what happened to that?_


	8. People Just Ain't No Good

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize in this one-shot. All song titles, plot points, and characters belong to their respective creators and owners, I am merely borrowing them.

**Author's Notes:** I liked writing this one, even if I did promise the song a really long time ago. As usual I'm unsure about it, but it feels right. Do enjoy!

**The next one up:** Um…any requests? I'm considering a little Colbie Calliat to lighten the mood, since these last few haven't exactly been cheery, but I always have an ear open for requests. Let me know if you think of anything guys!

**Chapter Summary:** Past TrentXKirby, current KirbyXAngie; Trent has lost something precious, and becomes a little more cynical.

**People Just Ain't No Good – Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds**

_People just ain't no good, I think that's well understood. You can see it everywhere you look: People just ain't no good…_

He was with Angie.

That skinny little cheerleader wanna-be with the thing for bunnies and who giggled when she was scared, freakin' _giggled_. It pissed him off to no freaking end that when he shoved her books out her hand, taunted her, threatened her, she giggled, held up her hands as if to push him away, and _giggled_… Stupid giggling little bitch….

But the Jock's hand was wrapped around her gloved one, and he grinned at her, face lighting up like a lamp. Kirby used to smile at _him_ like that, used to hold _his_ hand (when no one was looking) God it had been good.

After the riot their sophomore year (Trent's second time around) Kirby had started relaxing more, sneaking into Trent's dorm room, not throwing him out when Trent snuck into his, and while some nights were spent doing less than wholesome (but still really fun and sometimes loud) activities, other nights were spent talking, stretching out on the bed, legs tangled together, and they talked. Just talked. Grades were good, see you got in another fight, how's your eye, nervous about finals? Trent couldn't remember a lot of what they talked about, some of it was pointless blabber that annoyed the living crap out of him. A year, they'd been together a year and this is what they had to say to each other? God… but some of the conversations were deeper, not much, they were still guys and didn't do _deep_, but not all the conversations were pointless.

Trent remembered the nights they didn't talk the best, and remembered them more fondly. They'd just lay there, flip through magazines, listen to music, pretend to be studying, even snuggled… but it wasn't really snuggling. Kirby (at the time at least, now he seemed all the more willing to snuggle with that little bitch) hadn't been much for snuggling. Trent was all for it, the closer the better, but Kirby? No, he wanted his space. That was ok, perfectly fine with Trent, so they had lay on the floor next to each other and just stared at the ceiling, or out the window. Silence, blessed silence for just a few hours, after so much noise it was wonderful…

Now? Now it was too damn quiet.

They had split only two short months ago, two months of Trent sending notes, only to get them back unopened the next day. He had a whole pile accumulated on the floor of his locker, like a small mountain. Two months of watching football practice from that tree, two months… and somehow it had gone from summer to winter in this time. The leaves were gone, the sky was gray, and the branches of trees looked like fingers clawing at the sky. Storms came more often, wind shook the school down to its foundation; snow was on its way. Maybe more than two months had passed. Trent wasn't sure, and he hadn't been sure why Kirby had ended it.

Now he was.

Trent pressed a cigarette between his lips, narrowed his eyes, watching them as he stalked them, flipping his hood up to cover his distinctive blonde hair. Kirby said something and she started to giggle. Trent suppressed the urge to run up and break her face. He had flirted with her at one time or another. He had flirted with _that_…?

_Fantastic_.

Maybe Kirby wasn't trying to hurt him. Kirby wasn't inherently manipulative; he didn't know a thing about conning people. Maybe Kirby wasn't trying to get Trent jealous and infuriated. He'd been a good boyfriend, (great, actually) maybe Trent had done something, or maybe he was just experimenting… yeah. Kirby was playing the field, Trent could understand that… But then Kirby moved, his head turned slightly, looked over his shoulder and pinned Trent in place with a narrow eyed look. Playing the field? Bullshit. The little fuck had learned something from his little cheerleader.

Trent turned on his heel, dropping his still smoldering cigarette on the ground and crushing it beneath his foot, even as he lit another. Waste had always made him feel better.

Bastard, leaving him like this. Didn't Kirby know who he was dealing with? He was Trent Northwick, best looking guy in the school, ladies man and star of Bullworth. Kirby'd be lucky to get a glance from him now…

Or maybe it was the other way around? Trent'd be lucky to get that glance…

Sighing, the blonde bully shrugged his hood off and let the new flakes of snow dance into his hair.

What was it that wimp Kowalski was always sayin'? People just ain't no good? Or maybe Trent got it from a movie… whichever, it was true. People just ain't no good. Especially the ones you liked-maybe-loved.

_People just ain't no good…_


	9. Grey

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize in this one-shot. All song titles, plot points, and characters belong to their respective creators and owners, I am merely borrowing them.

**Author's Notes:** I like this one, I really do… but I think it's the first sad one that has something of a solution to it, and that doesn't really fit the song, which is annoying, but I can't think of a different ending for it. Besides, we needed an update.

**Next Up:** Fear by OneRepublic. I know I just did one by them and from the same album no less… but this song just hit me, ya know? It needs its place in _Sing for the Moment_; I hope you guys don't mind a repeat.

**Chapter Summary:** Mild PinkyXRicky; In which Pinky is miserable for a reason she doesn't understand and is comforted by the oddest little thing…

**Grey – Ani Difranco**

_The sky is grey, the sand is grey, and the ocean is grey; and I feel right at home in this stunning monochrome, alone in my way…_

Derby, and subsequently everyone else, had noticed.

Pink wasn't particularly sure what was wrong with her, despite her friend's demands to know. She felt… depressed. Illogically of course, she had everything she wanted… but still it wasn't enough. It never was. She seemed to be under the impression that, by snapping her fingers, stomping her foot and demanding the attention that a princess deserved, everything would be ok. She wanted that diamond necklace about the worth of a small car? Daddy'd buy it. First in line at the movies? Jimmy would make it happen. Something, anything? Someone, anyone would get it for her.

It was enough to garner the envy of almost every girl in Bullworth. Zoe Taylor seemed to be the only one who didn't give a damn that Pinky had everything she didn't, everything that she should want; and damn it all to hell if Zoe Taylor was happier than Pinky. The redhead was always grinning, whether it's the wicked grin of planning a prank, or the softer smile she saved for Jimmy when he brought her flowers or a book he'd stolen from a nerd. She didn't have the latest styles of clothing. Her hair was messy, short and choppy. Her jewelry was limited to chains and woven, beaded necklaces, rings and earrings that would turn her skin green someday. Her horrible looking combat boots were scuffed and dirty, and her uniform? A disaster.

She didn't have everything Pinky did… but she did have happiness. But why should she? Her house was falling apart around her ears, owned by Tad's father, and could be tugged out from under her feet any second. Both her parents worked, and it wouldn't be long before she'd have to get a job as well. She didn't have much… in Pinky's eyes she basically had nothing. If it wasn't the best it didn't count because it wasn't worth having. Why the hell should _she_ be so damn happy her muddy brown eyes glowed and you could see smile lines tugging around her mouth?

Pinky just didn't understand it. She was sitting here, sand getting on her skirt, shivering from cold as wind blew her hair into unmanageable tangles, miserable for reasons she couldn't comprehend… but Zoe Taylor was happy as a clam. She had everything she wanted, but it wasn't enough. She wanted more.

Pinky sighed, pressed her chin onto her knees and tried to ignore the wind cutting into her legs and face. She had expensive foundation for a reason: to cover windburn and things of the sort.

"You should head back to the school, princess."

Pinky jumped and whipped around, only to find Ricky standing behind her, head cocked to the side, cigarette pressed between his lips, hands in the pocket of his leather jacket.

She blinked and turned back around with another sigh "I came here to be alone. Please just… go away, ok?"

He ignored her "And to drown right? The storm's gonna bring the tide up…" he snorted through his nose "I forgot. Daddy can just pick you up with his yacht."

She didn't reply, and Ricky continued, clearly in the mood to agitate. No greaser passed up an opportunity to get a rise out of a prep; in simply wasn't in their capabilities "What's got ya down trust fund princess? Daddy cut your allowance down to a hundred bucks a week? Or maybe he didn't get you those diamond earrings you wanted, huh?"

Pinky stood, brushed the sand from her legs and skirt, and walked away. She wasn't in the mood for a verbal sparring match. If it had been Lola, she might have seized the opportunity to improve her mood, but she was getting to the point that even a serious shopping trip might not cut it. She needed cookie dough… ice cream… to cry or something. She just didn't know what to do anymore, and the worst part was she didn't even know what the hell had her so upset. She had everything, _everything_ at her fingertips, but it wasn't enough.

"Whoa, whoa… hey, I didn't mean to make you cry… I was just…I'm sorry…" Ricky mumbled, awkwardly chasing after her.

It wasn't until he said it that she noticed, and was immediately embarrassed and ashamed of herself. It wasn't in her nature to cry in public, she'd been raised to hide her emotions, to keep them quiet. A lady would not show weakness, it wasn't appropriate, especially not in front of strangers. A hand flew up and wiped away the wayward tears as she ducked her head.

"I'm not…crying." She sniffled, coming to a stop under the pier.

"Uh huh…" he mumbled skeptically, fishing in a pocket and pulling out a greasy rag. Folding it over so the grease stains were covered by relatively clean, gray cloth he handed it to her. "Seriously." He said; voice somber "What's got you so upset?"

Floodgates broken, Pinky snapped at him viciously "Oh why do you care? You hate me, remember? You hate my friends, you hate my family, and you hate everything I stand for…"

Ricky tilted his head and narrowed his eyes sharply "No, I hate the fact that you, your friends, and your family don't know what it's like to have next to nothin'. I hate that you don't realize how lucky you got it, when some of my friend's families could be losin' their homes, everything they got, because people like you just can't get enough. I hate that you're so spoiled, you don't appreciate all the shit you got, and have to be assholes to the people who got less than you."

His tone stunned her: calm. Of course he was angry, she didn't need to hear the undercurrent of viciousness in his voice to know that, and the words themselves were enough of a hint that he found it completely unfair that she was handed everything on a silver platter and he had to work and scrape just to make bare minimum. Overall though… he wasn't screaming. He wasn't yelling… he wasn't even gesturing wildly, or stomping around like Hopkins or Vincent would have. Hell, any of the Greasers would have been yelling at her by now… but apparently Ricky wasn't the same way.

She didn't respond, only gaped at him as though he'd suddenly sprouted a second head. "So," he said after a moment of silence, sounding calmer "when you're done feeling sorry for yourself because Daddy decided to buy you a Bentley instead of a Ferrari, you should head back to campus." His dark eyes flicked past her shoulder to take in the dark clouds rolling in behind them.

He turned and walked off, pulling a cigarette from behind his ear and lighting as he stalked away. Pinky watched him go, wondering when exactly she'd stopped crying, and what had made her cry in the first place. She did have it all, she had everything, and even though she'd had something of a realization, she was still…

Suddenly she realized she still had his grease stained rag, now smeared with some of her make-up and a little damp from her tears. She started after him, intent on returning it, but then stopped herself. He didn't need it, and if he wanted it he could always ask her for it later, even though she probably wouldn't surrender it. Things held memories; much likes smells to amnesiacs, and this greasy little rag held this memory. It wasn't much, mostly just Pinky getting told off when she most needed it, but it was hers… and she'd earned it. It wasn't a gift from Daddy, wrapped in a velvet box and topped with a shiny ribbon. It was hers and she'd earned it.

True, she hadn't realized she'd been working for it, but all the same she'd earned it.

Carefully folding the stained rag into a neat, completely filthy little square, she tucked it into the pocket of her coat and started slowly back towards Bullworth. She wasn't sure how'd she explain it to the other Preps if they found it, or to Christy, her roommate, if she saw it, but Pinky, for once, didn't much care what anyone else thought about it.

If she was honest with herself, she was still depressed, but the more she thought about it… the more she had to wonder: what did she have to be depressed about? She couldn't use hormones as an excuse, like the other times she'd felt gloomy, she'd just gotten over her period about a week ago. There was really no reason for her…well. The 'why' didn't matter anymore.

Stroking the worn fabric of the rag with her fingers, safe and warm in the confines of her coat pocket, she smiled softly. Weird as it was, the dirty, dingy and abused rag in her hand was the key to unlocking her bad moods, the key to keeping her happy when her friends and shopping and the love of her too-wealthy family wasn't enough. It wasn't shiny, or expensive, and her mother would have tossed it out without a second thought… but it was Pinky's.

She had earned it, and she'd be damned if someone took it from her.

_What kind of paradise and I looking for? I've got everything I want and still I want more. Maybe some tiny, shiny key will wash up on the shore_


	10. Drink Me

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize in this one-shot. All song titles, plot points, and characters belong to their respective creators and owners, I am merely borrowing them.

**Author's Notes:** There is an acoustic version of this song on Youtube to listen to as you read this… so off with you. Go find. You really need it for this one.

The difficulties I had with this one was trying to get across that Gary's kind of cracking, and the reasons could be his drinking, his new meds, or the combination affecting his mind. I had to try and make it obvious that he was confused and sluggish, calm, but all over the place, and a little scared because he was so out of control… but so far gone he can't bring himself to care.

The last line, the riddle, does have an answer, but the idea behind the riddle was that it wasn't meant to have an answer. It was meant to show the Hatter's mental state, and confuse the reader. Given Gary's state of mind in this and the Alice in Wonderland references throughout the song…it just fit the ending of the piece. It was meant to be jarring, confusing and for the reader (and writer) to walk away slightly annoyed and maybe confused.

On another note, I'm starting a new semester in college, so updates may come faster (what wut? :3). I'm gonna try to start writing something to post once a week, whether it be for this, There and Back Again or… random crack, something should be out at least once a week. As partly inspired by Delicious Poundcake (HI BB!) expect a Bully Left 4 Dead Crossover soon, though I'm not too sure what I'm going to do with it. Either way, expect some fun guys!

**The next one up:** I said I was going to do Fear by OneRepublic, but decided to put some space between it and All the Right Moves, so it'll be a bit before we get to it. I have two requests that are giving me problems, so they'll be up soon. I don't have a clue what's up next.

**Chapter Summary:** N/A; Gary drinks, thinks, and begins to sink…

**Drink Me – Anna Nalick**

_Talk about the weather, will you miss ever, lately I'm obsessed and I need the rest…_

Technically, he wasn't supposed to have the booze.

It played havoc with his meds, made his head fuzzy, and if the prefects –no... they were orderlies now- found out he had it, he was dead. Not that it mattered; he was kind of drinking himself into an early grave anyways. Thing was… his head was all screwed up. He was confused, his mind moved at a snail's pace and he was tired… so, so tired.

He wanted to disappear, though it had nothing to do with embarrassment or similar emotions. He wasn't embarrassed about what he was doing…no… what he'd done... he'd already been kicked out of Bullworth… so what'd he'd done. Had he even done it? Either way, he wasn't embarrassed about it, and Mom said it wasn't really his fault.

Apparently the school nurse was supposed to make sure students took their medications when necessary and was supposed to keep track of it, to avoid over doses and kids skipping necessary pills. According to his shrink, his parents were trying to sue the school for neglecting their kid and trying to force them to accept him back as a student.

Really, honestly? He didn't give two shits, he was…what was he? Besides tired, he wasn't really anything. He felt a little like Alice must have when she'd first fallen into Wonderland- Or was it Underland? What the hell ever- kind of like he was stuck in a dream and had to find a way out of it. He hadn't really taken over the school, (had he?) he didn't really manipulate every last person in the town (did he?)… And he wasn't really in an Asylum (was he?).

He was just kind of rolling with the punches… that was a line in a song wasn't it?

The subtly bitter taste of Gin, the sweet taste of Sherry… they rested on the back of Gary's tongue like a sweetly bitter tasting poison. The truth, whatever truth he was experiencing, was getting scary. The Asylum doctor and his psychologist were trying to convince the pharmacist that his meds were having a bad effect on his mind that may become permanent if they weren't switched out soon. The pharmacist wanted to wait and see how he adjusted. Not one of them knew he'd blackmailed a prefect (orderly?) to sneak booze in for him, and that might have something to do with his mental state.

Whatever his mental state was.

His parents hadn't visited in a while. They didn't seem to see any point in talking to him, since he mostly ignored them. Pete used to visit, but one attempt from Femme-Boy to take the Gin from Gary… well. He didn't visit anymore. It would be okay though (wouldn't it?). Eventually they'd forget him, all of them, and eventually he'd drink himself to death and he'd be gone.

He kind of doubted they'd miss him. He knew Petey might blame himself, since he was like that… but really? No one would miss him. He'd just lie down and rest and sink into his bed and pillows and slowly disappear… he was just so tired…

Why is a raven like a writing desk?

…_I need the rest…I need the rest…I need the rest…_


	11. Sunrise

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize in this one-shot. All song titles, plot points, and characters belong to their respective creators and owners, I am merely borrowing them

**Author's Notes:** This one is a little pointless and is fluffy in areas, but it was fun writing from Petey's point of view. He's such a sweetie, I just want to snuggle him!

I take it you guys didn't like Drink Me, since I got no responses on it. It was a little rough around the edges wasn't it? Maybe I can edit it a bit and improve it… I do love all my readers, I just need some feedback. Been feeling kind of… funky lately. And not in the good way.

**The next one up:** I', starting to think I should just cut out this part of the comments… It's not like I actually live up to any promises. XP

Hey, guys… I need some requests. It's getting harder and harder to come up with songs and if we want this to continue (mostly, it's therapy for me, but I'm begging here) I need some suggestions.

**Chapter Summary:** Mild GaryXPetey if you squint and tilt your head; Petey sees a different Gary in the early mornings…

**Sunrise – Norah Jones**

_Sunrise, sunrise looks like mornin' in your eyes, but the clocks held nine fifteen for hours…_

Their relationship was a strenuous one, and even calling it a relationship was questionable. It was more like a cat with a toy, or a mouse. A few minutes of batting it around with its paws, leaving teeth marks and stains that would never really fade away permanently and then it would saunter away to torment some other helpless or inanimate object.

Petey was not particularly happy about being the toy in his relationship, and outright refused to admit being a mouse. He just had too much pride in himself to do it.

People, mostly Jimmy, constantly asked Petey why, if he was abused so much, did he keep being Gary's friend? Why did he set himself up for disaster, or try to be nice to the sociopath when he knew, from years of previous, painful experience that he'd walk away with bruises and a very sore pride. It wasn't like Gary was very much into changing himself or anything, and it was rather obvious he didn't actually value Petey for anything more than a punching bag, so why stay around?

Well, they shared a dorm, for starters, and with the habits the other boys had Petey absolutely refused to request a switch. Gary had his problems, but it was unlikely Petey would wake up and find Gary being groped by a football player or Lola… especially not Lola… which brought on a nasty mental image that would haunt Petey for years to come. Gary wasn't asexual (as rumor speculated) he just kept his romantic pursuits private. He did not want the whole school knowing who he was dating, when he was dating them and how often they met behind the bleachers for make-out sessions. Yes, it was common knowledge he was dating Christy Martin, no it was not obvious if he was _doing_ Christy Martin.

Also, Gary was almost OCD he kept his things so neat. It was his way of keeping everything in control: I can't do this, that or the other, but I _can_ keep my dorm how I want it. Homework was always written neatly and tucked in his book bag, his laundry was folded and put away as soon as he walked through the door, his bed was made almost immediately when he got up, and his shoes were either under his bed or on his feet. They had the cleanest room in the whole damn dorm, and it couldn't make Petey happier. He liked neat… sure, he'd like to be able to move things without fear of castration, but the dorm was spotless, and that was enough for Petey.

Petey was also asked, numerous times, what Gary was like in the mornings. Christy was particularly curious about this, and this alone had led Petey to believe that Gary wasn't too deeply involved with Christy, despite her insistence they were close. What the school saw of Gary from the time he came out of his dorm and the time he went back in at night was _exactly_ what he wanted them to see: no pajamas, no embarrassing marks on his face from his pillow or sheets, and no stiffness from the craptastic quality of the mattresses. Gary was cool, calm and collected. Give this, curiosity was piqued, and Petey had heard several theories as to Gary's personality in the morning, all varying from completely useless to completely psychotic.

It was neither. Firstly, to dispel any doubt anyone might have, Petey would deny any unusual habits, such as Gary sleeping with a knife under his pillow or a stuffed Hitler doll under his arm. He did knot wear a swastika on his pajamas, and he did not hang upside down from the ceiling, or in a coffin of poor or excellent quality. In fact, Gary slept in sweatpants and no shirt. If the dorm room got cold during winter he might pull on a t-shirt, but was completely unembarrassed to walk around the dorm room shirtless.

It should be noted that when Christy heard this she'd immediately run off towards the boys dorm with an excited squeal. Petey had assumed this was a compliment to Gary, and Gary's six pack, but Petey didn't really understand the fuss. If Jimmy could walk around with as many girlfriends as he had and the body he had, what difference did it really make?

This was not a train of thought Petey wanted to continue on.

Other rumors Petey regularly dispelled usually had something to do with Gary waking up in the morning. He was not a violent morning person, even when off his meds, though he was usually up and out of bed faster if the latter was concerned. Gary wasn't a groggy, 'I hate the world until I wake up' person either. Usually he was up a little bit before Petey, and would stay in bed for half an hour or so. He'd stare at the ceiling, finish up homework, or gaze blankly out the window, eyes glazed over with the colors of the sunrise.

Yes, he was usually up with the sun, and because of this, so was Petey. It was a disgusting habit, Petey hated it, but he wanted to live and so didn't complain.

Rumors that Petey did not dispel usually had to do with early morning conversation. Many believed this was the time that Gary came up with many of his nefarious plots, and Petey fueled those wholeheartedly, despite that it was something of a lie. While Gary did do most of his thinking in the early morning, he did most of his plotting before going to bed, late at night, and usually after he'd completed his homework.

Petey had had most of his more interesting and less violent conversations with Gary after they woke up. Like this morning's for example. Petey was still in mild shock over it.

Gary had been awake and gazing blankly out the window as usual, pink and purple reflected in his eyes. He'd propped his pillow up, and was braced back against the headboard so he could better see out the window, wit one leg bent and the other stretched out straight. He'd looked a little mad, and Petey had initially wondered (through his groggy haze of early morning annoyance) if Gary was in one of his moods, but the older boy had simply thrown a glance at Petey, as if to make sure that he was awake and said:

"I think I'm gonna break up with Christy."

"Oh… really?" Petey felt that he was justified in his surprise. He'd heard no complaints of Christy from Gary, and had even seen them on a date just a few nights before, very _close_ and _very_ comfortable in the movie theatre. There'd been no signs whatsoever that Gary had been looking to end it.

Eventually Gary's unpredictability would become predictable and Petey would have to find a new to spend his time instead of trying to figure out the asshole that was his best friend.

Gary had nodded "Yeah. It's not really… working."

Petey's eyebrows shot up and he spoke before really thinking about the implications Gary would forcibly manipulate into Petey's words "It seemed to be working okay the other night at the movies."

Gary threw him a sideways glance "You stalking me, Femme-Boy?" he'd smirked, like usual and poor Pete finally realized what he'd said.

Petey rolled his eyes "It's not even eight o'clock in the morning…"

Gary snickered. Petey's early morning snarkiness mostly amused him because it would wear off in a few minutes and Pete would be back to his usual self. "Anyway, I might break up with her today after lunch. Bad time to spread rumors, right?"

Petey thought about it, and this was where the conversation had kind of started to get… weird. "If Christy wants to start a rumor she won't wait until lunch time to do it…"

"True." Gary shifted, and Petey had briefly wondered if Gary was finished talking, but a moment later he'd settled back into a more comfortable position. "But she's getting clingy. I can't handle clingy girls, they're so annoying."

"Christy never struck me as the clingy type…"

"Why do you think I dated her…?"

And not once had Gary fired off a crack about Petey's potential lack of masculinity. Not once. The only teasing Petey got from Gary was mild and mostly harmless, a Femme-boy snark here, a sarcastic kissing noise there, but mostly? It had been actual, genuine conversation. Before Petey had realized just how long they'd talked it was almost time for first class and they had just enough time to get a shower and get to class.

Once this realization had struck, surprise must have been written all over Pete's face because Gary had commented on it: "What's your problem? You look like you've just realized you're gay and standing in the same room as Bullworth's most eligible…"

Petey rolled his eyes ceiling ward, but didn't snap back "I just realized this is the first conversation we've really had-"

Gar cut him off "Yeah, don't ruin it by being a girl…"

The day had gone on normally, though Petey later heard a rumor saying something about Gary being gay… with him… which earned him endless ribbing, but it seemed that Gary's best mood was in the mornings. The sunrise brought about change in Gary, like he realized he still had another day for world conquest (or whatever his ultimate goals were). Petey liked the change, because it meant, for once, he had a genuine friend.

Even if this friend was completely out of his mind, he was there, and that was really all that mattered to Petey.

It was all about the little things.

…_Oh and if I'm right, it's the only way to bring me back, to you…_


	12. The Times They Are aChangin

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize in this one-shot. All song titles, plot points, and characters belong to their respective creators and owners, I am merely borrowing them.

**Author's Notes:** It was time for Bob Dylan, and I'll be honest, the total time it took me to decide on the song, find the song, find the lyrics, write this up and edit it… about an hour. Some things have been going on and… well. I'll just say this song aptly applies, and partially inspired this one-shot.

I apologize in advance for typos and poor sentence structure. As I mentioned above… an hour total… my wrist will never speak to me again.

**The next one up:** A Halloween Special. Hopefully in time for Halloween, and a request for Beatrice-centric. Sorry it's taking so long, I'm not sure what song to use for her…

**Chapter Summary:** Spoilers

**The Times, They Are a-Changin' - Bob Dylan**

The Times, They Are A-Changin' – Bob Dylan

_Come gather 'round people, wherever you roam, and admit that the waters around you have grown…  
_

Twenty years ago, when Petey was old at fifteen instead of young at thirty-five, things were different. He was never going to get married, he was always going be a virgin, and he was never going to be, arguably, the most successful of his friends and classmates. Gary was going to end up dead by nineteen, let alone make it to thirty-six and already have two beautiful little girls with Christy, and Jimmy and Zoë were going to be together forever, not divorced before their fifteenth wedding anniversary.

Twenty years ago Derby would have never acknowledged Johnny, let alone started a relationship with him, and Lola would have never settled down and married – to Algie of all people! – or worn conservative clothing. Beatrice had been well on her way to a cure for cancer, not a best selling novel or a happy marriage with Ted Thompson. Mandy was the most popular and sought after girl in school, not suspiciously missing from the class reunion. Pinky would have never been caught dead with Ricky, let alone carrying his baby in her growing stomach and Petey… Petey never would have been walking arm in arm with Angie, pushing the stroller of his first son, or working as a very successful doctor to support a family he loved.

Things had changed, and so quickly. It had only felt like yesterday that they had been at graduation. Johnny and Derby had started a fist fight the moment the caps had been thrown, and Beatrice had marched right up to Ted Thompson and planted a big wet kiss right on his mouth, an action so out of character that Mandy hadn't even had time to respond before Ted had picked Beatrice up around the waist and kissed her back. Petey and Jimmy were best friends then, talked about everything and anything and understood what the other was thinking before they said it…but now?

Petey and Jimmy hadn't spoken since their second year of college. Jimmy had changed, and was unwilling to admit that Petey was more mature than him, and that he was ashamed of himself for doing everything Petey wouldn't have and didn't do. Jimmy was the body guard; Petey was the smart victim who needed protecting… that was how it was supposed to work. Petey had, unexpectedly, grown a backbone. Jimmy lost his place in the cycle, moved into the position of brother rather than defender and hadn't been ready for it. Brothers told each other everything… or so Pete had thought.

Petey understood, at least he did now. When he was nineteen he'd been so angry he'd wanted to throw up, just could not understand what the hell was wrong with Jimmy and why he couldn't get his act together… but now Pete understood, and didn't blame Jimmy or condemn him. They were different people and they'd gone different ways, it was natural.

Awkward as hell, looking over at Jimmy arguing with Zoë, because apparently only one was supposed to come to this reunion, and then the other to the next one and somewhere along the way someone had gotten their wires crossed… why they were even talking to each other, given the violence of their divorce, was a question but of they still wanted drama fine. Petey didn't really need it. He was happy.

And confused. Gary was approaching, one of his daughters on his shoulders. Petey never would have thought that Gary would like kids… or that Christy would risk spoiling her figure to have them. Not that it did. She was still slender and beautiful, holding the younger of the girls while she talked to Pinky. Two girls… and both had their mother's hair, and their father's insane energy. The little gurgling baby in Christy's arms squirmed and fidgeted, desperate to see everything happening, and the one on Gary's shoulders was grinning wickedly at everything, pointing at things and looking down at her Dad, who would glance up and reply with an equally wicked grin.

He was wearing a suit, and he was holding his daughter's feet, securing her on his shoulders. He wouldn't let her fall, despite her squirming. Twenty years ago he'd have dropped Pete, or anyone, and laughed at them for their lack of balance, but now he was protecting his girl… Twenty years ago Gary was in an asylum, and probably never thought he'd have or want kids or care enough to come to a high school reunion… Petey never thought he'd survive that long.

Gary was suddenly in front of him, smiling, and before Petey could react Gary had crouched down in front of his son and was grinning like the Cheshire Cat at the sleeping baby boy.

A moment passed, and Gary looked up "He looks _just_ like you… except cuter, and much less of a girl."

The little redhead on his shoulders immediately set to scolding her Dad for being mean, to which Gary replied with a guiltless grin and Petey grinned back.

Maybe things hadn't changed that much…

_The order is rapidly fadin'. And the first one now will later be last…For the times they are a-changin'…_


	13. This is Halloween

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize in this one-shot. All song titles, plot points, and characters belong to their respective creators and owners, I am merely borrowing them.

**Author's Notes:** My God I LOVE Halloween, and since Gary does as well, he is featured in this one. I do apologize for writing from his POV so much; he's just easy for me to write. A few new characters will be coming up though, so no worries.

I'm somewhat proud of this one, but… it feels a little odd towards the end. Any suggestions on making it better?

Now, a warning for any of my readers who like Twilight: you may want to skip this chapter. There is unabashed Twilight bashing, and I don't want to offend anyone accidentally. I'm as Anti-Twilight as they come, but you guys are free to like what you want, so… beware.

**Next Up:** A few requests and then something special for the holiday season (which includes Thanksgiving).

**Chapter Summary:** Gary has a complaint and an encounter…

**This is Halloween – Danny Elfman**

_Boys and girls of every age, wouldn't you like to see something strange…?_

What the flying fuck had happened to Halloween?

It wasn't supposed to be… cute, or cuddly. Halloween was meant to be scary. A night for terrifying small children out of their candy, and dressing up like something horrifying.

If he was curtsied at by one more fairy princess, someone was going down.

He was dressed like a vampire this year, which, he'd thought, would be interesting with his usual Gary twist. The combat boots were a friend's, hurt like hell, and the bloodstained leather jacket fit so comfortably he might keep it. He was burning the boots though, legally his or not. The fake blood he'd smeared on his face tasted like crap, and the fake stake he'd strapped to his shoulder was going to leave a bruise…

And yet girls still squealed and went "Oh look, a vampi-wait… why isn't he sparkly?"

He'd actually bared his fake fangs at one of them and hissed.

Twilight. His hatred ran deeply for it.

It wasn't the book itself, he'd never read it and didn't intend to, but it was what the book was _doing._ How many girls had made some comment that implied he'd look much better dressed like Robbiepoo? Or was it Eddykins? Technically the same person, but Gary looked fine as himself, thanks; he didn't need greasy hair a foot high and body glitter to look any better.

It wasn't only his potential dates that Twilight had affected: Halloween itself had been touched by Stephanie Meyer's book, and Gary was, frankly, pissed off. Sparkly vampires were suddenly the norm, and, in an unusual twist people's costumes were much tamer. Except for the slutty outfits, and he was a red blooded male, he didn't mind the shorter skirts and tighter tunics. Sure, the decorations had gotten better, but… there was only so much cobwebs and Styrofoam headstones with the word 'vacancy' printed on them could do to ease his annoyance.

He wasn't even pulling any pranks, just… wandering around, tripping kids, taking the occasional bag of candy out of some brat's hand. He had a good haul, but… not even candy was doing it for him this year. Halloween was ruined, and it would stay ruined until it got its balls back.

He wandered aimlessly before coming into the cemetery, which was oddly empty. Halloween was usually the only time kids would go in there this late at night, like it was alright to be there that one night of the year, but any other night it was wrong. Gary liked the cemetery though, dead people didn't bother him. Not like they could hurt you or anything.

He walked in and made his way to the section farthest from the gate, the oldest part, and slumped down against a headstone. Peeking into his stolen goody bag he dug out a licorice stick and peeled the wrapping off. "Halloween sucks."

"Why do you say that?" He looked up, alarmed, at a pale, red headed girl dressed in tight jeans, a black tank top, combat boots and a bomber jacket. He thought he could see fake blood on the outfit, but if that was all the effort she was going to put into it…

"What are you supposed to be?"

"Vampire," she peeled back her lips and bared her 'fangs'.

The theme of the year…

She moved to sit next to him, and he noted that her eyes were a weird shade of green, almost unnatural. Probably contacts. She smelled good though, clean, with some exotic perfume…

"Why do you say that Halloween sucks?"

He shook his head and gestured between the two of them "We're walking clichés. The whole country has a hard-on for fangs."

She shrugged "It'll pass. All fads do."

"And, it's not scary anymore; it's all about… cute costumes and getting candy." He had no idea why he was talking to this girl, he didn't know her name and he didn't usually talk to anyone he didn't know, but… ever since Jimmy had taken him down he'd been… lonely. He kind of missed having someone to talk to and if this girl was a willing conversation then… he'd take what he could.

Her eyebrows lifted "You do know that Halloween was originally a Celtic celebration of harvest time don't you?"

He waved a hand "Yeah, all holidays have their history, but I'm talking about how it used to be about scary movies and terrifying your neighbor. Do you know how much trouble I had trying to find this costume?" he gestured at himself "I ended up making most of it."

She gave him an appraising look "Is the stake supposed to be in your shoulder?"

"Yeah. I figured it would be asking for trouble putting it over my heart, people hate me so much someone might've tried to take advantage."

She tilted her head, looking confused "I'm missing something aren't I?"

She must have been new in town, if she didn't recognize him from all the papers and gossip… "You'll find out soon enough. I'm not enlightening you."

She smiled "It couldn't have been that bad… whatever you did."

"I almost burned down a school and nearly caved the town in on itself."

Her eyebrows rose "By yourself?"

He glanced at her "Mostly… I did most of the thinking, but there are some things you just can't do alone, ya know?"

She whistled, which must have been hard with the fake fangs "You almost destroyed a town… basically on your own? I'm impressed."

He stared at her, and then moved back to the topic of Halloween. He didn't like entertaining crazy people; he'd done enough of that back in Happy Volts.

"Anyways, Halloween sucks."

"You're not good in small towns are you?"

"Why do you say that?" It was true, sure, but what made her bring it up?

She shifted to face him better "If you were in New Orleans, or New York, which is where I'm from, you'd be saying something totally different."

He smirked, "Halloween actually scary there?"

She sighed dreamily "There's so much to do, parties down every block, haunted houses, movie marathons in the theatres…"

"Sounds awesome."

"It's amazing, and the decorations?" she sighed again "I wish my family and I hadn't had to move."

"Why did you?"

She shrugged "My father's business makes him move around a lot. He wants to keep the family together so we go with him."

"That sucks."

She shrugged again. There was a pause, where they just sat in companionable silence watching bats chase after moths drawn in by the street lights, when suddenly the girl said "I have to go. My parents want me home before midnight."

"Oh, okay." He didn't want to admit it, but he was kind of sorry to see her go, even if she was just good for a convenient conversation.

Suddenly a piece of paper was thrust into his hand, and when he looked at it, a cell phone number was scribbled on it, and beneath that: Morgan. "Call me." She said, grinning, then rose and turned to walk away.

"But you don't know my name."

She paused and looked back at him over her narrow shoulder, a strange smile stretched across her thin face "I'll see you around Gary. Enjoy the rest of your Halloween."

So she did know who he was. She'd probably been fishing for him to introduce himself: the polite thing. She walked off, her red hair moving in the wind, and starting humming under her breathe… The Moonlight Sonata? Okay, whatever floated her boat. He went back to watching the bats, only to find that they'd fluttered off after their moths. He sighed, chewed on his licorice, and a moment later the bats fluttered back into view, this time with one extra. They flew in low, close enough to make Gary nervous, and the newer, smaller one, screeched at him.

He frowned. Weren't bats eyes black, not green? And wasn't the fur brown not dark red…? He froze, whirled around to look for Morgan and found that she had disappeared. He turned back to watch the bats circle and flutter around each other before they zoomed off, the reddish one pausing to scoop back towards him and then away again, almost cheerfully…

He watched them a moment, glanced at his licorice stick and tossed it away. "Who spikes candy? Seriously…"

_In this town, we call home, everyone hail to the Pumpkin Song…_


	14. Cigarettes Will Kill You

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize in this one-shot. All song titles, plot points, and characters belong to their respective creators and owners, I am merely borrowing them.

**Author's Notes:** Dammit, Microsoft, Peridot is so a word!

I realize the last chapter wasn't my best. In fact, despite what I say in the comments, I was actually leery about posting it. I'd take it down, but it'd feel like copping out. If you guys don't get to see some of my worst, how do you know when you're reading my best?

As it is, I enjoy this one. I do, genuinely. However, given that I like to try and be sneaky and that might confuse my more observant readers because of some contradictions in Christy's thinking, I want to leave you with something to keep in mind while reading this fic. As pointed out by Ben Lee, the title of this song is a metaphor for going back to or continuing with a bad relationship even though you know it's bad for you. Everyone knows how bad cigarettes are for them, but they smoke them anyway.

**Next Up:** I'm cutting this part out as of next chapter, I am not reliable enough to have any frickin' clue…

**Chapter Summary:** ChristyXGary; Much like cigarettes, you know they aren't good for you, but you just can't stay away…

**Cigarettes Will Kill You – Ben Lee**

_You throw me in a pan, you cook me in a can, you stretch me with your hands…_

She knew it would end badly. Christy was a lot of things, but she wasn't so stupid to think that going into a relationship with Gary Smith would be a good idea.

And _fuck_ if she hadn't been right.

Pinky had been sugary sweet enough to point it out when the relationship started, that Gary was a total psycho and would screw her over just like he screwed over everyone. (Like she could talk, wasn't it her boyfriend who'd trusted him enough to go along with his plans?) And Mandy hadn't been pleased either, but Christy had her thing for bad boys and scars and Gary… Gary was very, _very_ bad.

He lied, he cheated, he stole, he conned and connived and Christy, having been on the sidelines, had been floored then at how easy he'd made it all look. He'd frequently reassured her that she'd be right there with him, ruling the school and watching everything burn from the safety of the bell tower. But these comments were frequently made with the same breathe as comments such as "Friends are for the weak."

And they'd never been friends. Christy knew next to nothing about Gary, absolutely jack-squat. For all his arrogant boasting about himself, he never really revealed anything. Idle comments about his bad home life were it, but that was information anyone could get from town. Smith was a common name, but Bullworth was small, and all the Smiths here were related. He never really revealed anything of any substance, not even to people he claimed to care about.

No. They'd never been friends, but they had been more. The thing was, for all her sarcasm and gossiping, Christy was actually pretty hard to impress. It took more than a bouquet of flowers or some shiny jewelry to win her over. It took charm, and Gary was nothing if not charming. And he'd known exactly how to get in, how to unstitch her and make her feel all stupid and gooey and ridiculous. He was like a tomcat, all sweet and purring and making you giggle and go 'aw, how sweet'. And then you bring him inside, feed him a bit, and wake up the next morning with your curtains shredded, goldfish gone, chairs and sofas clawed up and the window open and him gone.

Now, to give some credit, the relationship hadn't been bad: regular dates that he always paid for, a bouquet of flowers sitting on her bedside table that one weekend she'd had the flu, private and intimate make out sessions… and he'd been good at pretending to listen. Christy was never sure if he had actually listened to a word she said when she wasn't gossiping or whispering something dirty in his ear. She'd always wondered after once mentioning that she preferred peridot jewelry because it was her birthstone and an argument later he'd left her a pair of peridot earrings as a peace offering.

Thing was, there'd always been this sense that it wasn't going to last, that tomorrow or the next day the relationship would be over. When he'd dumped her she hadn't been all that surprised. He'd been cracking for weeks, slipping deeper and deeper into this obsession of his, and she'd been avoiding him as much as possible. Calling her a pawn had been low, but he'd been right, and Christy had known it the whole. Damn. Time.

She still didn't know why she'd stayed with him. Hope? Curiosity? Masochism? She didn't want to over think it. She didn't know… no. That was a lie. Even now she couldn't help lying to herself. She'd wanted to prove her friends wrong. Prove that Gary wasn't that bad, because she really had liked him, prove that maybe she could tame him. Isn't that why girls go for bad boys? To try and change them? To fix the hurt, pat out all the bruises, and soften the scars a bit? To make them something better?

And maybe just a little, tiny piece of her had wanted something sweet and real and knew Gary was a lot of things, but he wasn't fake. Hey, if you didn't know he was a liar and snake by looking at him, that was your own dam problem, and he'd take advantage. He could con and connive with the best of them, but in the end, he wasn't fake. He gave you exactly what he promised you: whether you knew about the real agreement or not wasn't his problem.

In a sick way it sort of worked.

Thing was, she'd known all his flaws going in and had still gone out with him, gossiped for him, ruined reputations for him. She'd reasoned, after he'd been carted off to Happy Volts on a stretcher, staring blankly at the sky, that there was something wrong with her. She should've probably gone in there with him for treatment to sort out her issues.

That was the only possible explanation why, watching him move across campus, now so ostracized the prefects didn't even threaten him, she wanted to approach and… what? Apologize? She wasn't stupid enough to think she'd done a thing wrong. She was, however, apparently stupid enough to want him back on some sick, deep level.

It's been nice, being with someone who'd actually treated her like… well, a lady. He didn't pull out chairs or anything, Gary wasn't like that, but he hadn't moved too fast. Their first kiss hadn't been anything more than that: a heated kiss. She'd been with guys who'd had their hands up her skirt so fast she'd nearly gotten whiplash. Gary had his issues, but he'd always treated her right, at least when it counted.

He glanced up, brown eyes carefully neutral and looked at Christy, who gave him a very small smile. His slightly relieved expression had her convinced they'd be back together. She knew, right then, waiting for the new semester to start, that by the end of the first term she and Gary would be back together. She was already ignoring Pinky and Mandy's disapproving stares, Angie's downcast expression. She was already ignoring the whispers circulating around the school, the downright murderous stares Gary was getting…

As much as she knew they'd be together by the end of the year, she also wished that everyone was wrong. But they weren't. They were right about his being malicious and a sociopath. They were right that she was in over her head, getting involved with a guy who'd only screw her over again. They were right about everything.

And God she wished they weren't.

_I wish I could say that everyone was wrong… I wish everyone was wrong…_


	15. Paradise

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize in this one-shot. All song titles, plot points, and characters belong to their respective creators and owners, I am merely borrowing them.

**Author's Notes:** Been a while hasn't it? I was listening to this song while not doing homework, and was inspired to write this little piece. You'll forgive me for repeating bands. I listen to a lot of music, but what actually inspires me to write is a fairly limited selection, so repeats are to be expected. I'll never repeat songs though, just singers and bands.

I hope you enjoy this one. I'm not too sure how I feel about it, but it's short and sweet, and the music is nice.

**Chapter Summary:** Beatrice dreams.

**Paradise - Coldplay**

_When she was just a girl, she expected the world…_

When Beatrice was a kid, no older than six, and she watched her grandfather die of cancer, she knew she would find the cure. Chemistry sets were bought, books were checked out of the library, and little Beatrice would wake up tucked in bed, glasses on her dresser, even though she knew she had gone to sleep at the kitchen table, face pressed lovingly against the pages of her mother's old college biology books. Every night she dreamed about calculations, and equations, about her sweet grandfather patting her on the head and murmuring _Great job kiddo._ She imagined that, someday, she'd be standing in front of a large audience, all esteemed members of the scientific community explaining how a serum worked, or what this step by step treatment would do that chemo couldn't. They'd stand, and applaud. She'd be the eleventh woman to receive the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine and she would save thousands of lives and families.

But she'd only been a little girl then; soft and carefree, without a care or concern in the world. Sure, she'd been a little heartbroken, but she'd been so sure, so confident in herself. She'd _known_ that she could find this cure that would save so many lives. Beatrice couldn't remember when she'd started saying "I believe I can find the cure…" Belief is not knowing, and while belief is powerful it's just not the same.

Somewhere along the way, and she wasn't quite sure when, she'd stopped knowing. Something had gone wrong somewhere, a little pear-shaped, and she spent more time trying to get that feeling back than working on the all important serum or treatment. It was hard, sitting down everyday at a desk with notes that you know other scientists had eliminated as a possibility because you're stuck in a class that's still light-years behind.

She still dreamed of that paradise she'd envisioned as a child, the applause and the Nobel Prize. She'd stay up late at night working on homework, and when she finally did drift off to sleep she could just hear the applause and cheers, the proud look that would have been on her grandfather's face. It almost seemed that sleep was becoming the refuge from a reality determined to crush and break her. She felt so fragile, so vulnerable and breakable, like a butterfly: soft and carefree but oh so breakable, so easily crushed under the wheels of life and time.

She was so close. She knew it, she'd worked so hard since she was a child, so hard through school and in class to get those scholarships into Harvard. If she could just work a little harder, push just a little further, that vision in her head would be a reality. But every time she slipped into that dream, it seemed the face she saw for herself was getting a little older, the serum taking longer and longer to make, or the treatment longer to be effective. Even as a child she'd never assumed she'd find the cure fresh out of college or anything, but the face she'd seen was light and happy, beaming with pride and hope for all the lives saved.

Now? That face was become softened with time, creased and lined, the hair lighter, and the light in those eyes dimmer and so much less joyful. Yes, she'd still found the cure, but if she'd just found it a little sooner. If she'd only pushed a bit more she could have saved more lives, or eased more suffering. If only… and then she'd jump awake, slumped at her desk, staring at her distorted reflection in the beakers and flasks of her chemistry set, face stained with ink from her notes, and would quietly go back to work, pushing and pushing to make that dreamy paradise a hard, cold reality.

_This could be paradise…_


	16. Ride

**Disclaimer:**I don't own anything you recognize in this one-shot. All song titles, plot points and characters belong to their respective owners. I am merely borrowing them.

**Author's Notes:** I... I'm not sure where this came from. One minute I'm listening to Lana Del Rey, the next I'm writing a semi-philosophical examination into Lola's character that has absolutely no factual backing to it. At all.

I don't know what to tell you guys, but it'd been a while for this story, so, here ya go. An update. It might not make much sense, it hasn't been proofread all that much so it might be riddled with typos... but at least it's here.

BTW, the double entendre that is the title (knowing what Lola gets up to...) is unintentional. Convenient, but unintentional.

**Chapter Summary:** LolaXJohnny; Lola's got a war in her mind.

**Ride – Lana Del Rey**

_I've been out on that open road... _

Lola wasn't a slut because she enjoyed getting cat-calls and wolf-whistles when she walked across campus. She didn't screw around because she liked getting slut-shamed by the likes of Martin or Wiles, (who had enough -ahem- _relationships_ between them to put her to shame, FYI), or because the thought of Pee-Stain ogling her was a fun one. No, she did not do the things she did, with the people she did, because she enjoyed the looks and whispering, or the rumors following her around.

But she sure as hell wasn't above using the stereotypes and gossip to her advantage.

Because when a girl, particularly as one as young as she was, had any number of sexual partners higher than two, they were immediately labeled. Slut. Tramp. Whore. Different words, same meaning, and Lola... Lola wasn't necessarily okay with being the school's scarlet lettered Jezebel, but. Yeah, that's it, but what? What was she going to do about it? Stop sleeping around? The name-calling and her reputation were already set in stone. There was no changing the image now, so since she couldn't change it, she'd embrace it. She could play slutty manipulative bitch, it wasn't hard. And while many might argue the role was only so acted, that she could only fake so much being seventeen years old, she'd basically written the definition for fake it till you make it. And she'd made it.

So what?

So, _that_ was the problem. She'd faked being the slutty bitch for so long that she wasn't really sure who _she_ was anymore. The sleeping around, the playing kissy-kissy fucky-fucky with half the football team, the lack of a truly stable, committed relationship. Why? A damn fine question, kudos to you for asking. She didn't _know_ why. She didn't know where it started, couldn't pinpoint the moment where things had shifted for her. It wasn't as though she'd woken up one morning and said "Hey, I know what... who I'm doing today!" No, that was over simplifying it.

She didn't, really, hate any of the guys she'd been with. Some of them were just unlucky, a part of an image that'd been thrown onto her without her consent, and that she now had to play. Those guys, like Algie and Chad, were just a part of the picture, like the heavy make-up, too-tight uncomfortable-as-hell jeans and overtly sexual comments. They were just part of the picture, the process, and part of her felt like the bitch she was pretending to be when she saw their crushed faces. At the same time, with most of the guys, like Gord and Jimmy, it was because she was looking for something.

Lola had never really felt whole. Complete. She always felt like something was missing, like something was... gone. Lost? It couldn't be lost if she'd never had it to begin with could it? Unless she'd had it and lost it without realizing... and what was _it_ anyways? There was a hole in Lola, a piece missing, and she was searching for it the only way she knew how. Yeah it was unhealthy, trying to fill a void with physical pleasure and one-night stands, but every time she was curled in someone's sweaty arms, lips meshed with someone else's, hands threaded through her hair, she felt better. Like she was filling in the hole. But,when she returned to, say, Gord's bed the next night, that feeling was gone. So she moved to the next boy, and then lost it again after a while, and then found it with another. Then lost it again. Then found it, and lost it, and found it, and lost it, and there was only so much time for this, really, she had things to do for the love of God.

Then Johnny came along. Sweet, overprotective, incredibly jealous and sexy Johnny, and, again, she thought she found it. With him though, that elusive, undefinable _it_, stayed. Finally, _finally_, she could settle into something solid and real and _there_ and maybe get her act together a bit; bring her grades up, get her head on straight and prepare for graduation. Until the feeling of wholeness went away again. Faded away, then she found herself with Gord, and Johnny heartbroken, and then the feeling came back with Johnny, so she settled back into him for a while and... it was a cycle. And Johnny was getting hurt the most by all this, he was the one losing. Because with Johnny, it worked the best. He never _saw_ her as a slut. Yeah, okay, he'd call her a whore and tramp when he was pissed, but, to him, they were just words. Insults to throw around while he calmed back down. He never meant it, not really, and it wasn't hard to tell. Not with Johnny, who wore his emotions on his leather sleeve.

He loved her. All of her, as she was, flaws and all, the whole package. Or, at least he thought he did, and treated her like did... which wasn't the same thing. She wanted him to mean it, and that's why she tried, when they were together, tried so hard not to get into trouble, but she had a war in her mind. Back and forth, back and forth, she'd want nothing more than Johnny, all day, all night, just him, and his many neuroses and problems, and then within a week she wanted to go sneak off to Gord's dorm-room, because he liked to hold her and talk. And then the next week she'd be back with Johnny, splitting a cigarette while she watched the boys play poker, Johnny's good luck charm. The week after that she'd be with Chad, cooing over the gifts and sneaking a chaste kiss with him when Galloway had his back turned.

But in the end, no matter who she was with, that empty spot was never filled. She never felt any less lonely, never felt anymore sane. It had been like this for years, and while she was only seventeen, it had felt like she'd been doing this her whole life, like she was a washed out bar singer belting the blues or something. So, she'd come to a conclusion not all that long ago, that since she was probably not going to find what she was looking for, and her choices had been yanked out from underneath her the minute she'd gotten caught her first time in the girl's locker room with Chad... and Tad... she was going to have to go with the flow. Live with her choices, however poor they might be, as best she could. Until she could get out of Bullworth, and really start looking for whatever it was she was looking for, she was stuck anyways. The best she could do was play the role assigned to her and just... ride.

_...Been tryin' hard not to get into trouble, but I got a war in my mind, so I just ride..._


End file.
